AD (after Doctor)
by DJTrex
Summary: The Doctor just stepped out for coffee and he changed the course of one man's life. The Doctor has touched more lives than he even realizes and so has Denarian Saal. This story will crossover between Doctor Who (Peter Capaldi) and the Guardians of the Galaxy movie (some spoilers for both). Hopefully the first of a few chapters. Constructive feedback is welcome.


The deck plates of the Dark Aster were so close that even through the haze of the Nova shield, Denarian Saal could see each rivet. The air in his cockpit was thick and he felt the concussive force of the ships around him as they gave way to the sheer power of the enemy. He heard reassuring words crackle through his earpiece, but he knew that this was the end and he was surprisingly fine with this. After the life he had led, he knew that a death in service to the Nova Corps was more than he thought would have been possible at one time. As he throttled his engine one more time, his craft, already stressed to its limits, exploded as he screamed, "ROCKET!".

There was no pain, just a very bright light and a sense of motion; not of falling, really, but of motion. Even though he knew his eyes were open, he only saw a bright light; it wasn't a searing light, it was just bright and cold, almost like the light one might see in an examination room. After a moment, the light dimmed and he felt himself sitting in a chair. After blinking a few times to give his ocular nerves a chance to acclimate, he noticed that he was indeed sitting in a chair; in his uniform; in a garden; next to a woman with a bearing not unlike that of his commander, Nova Prime.

He immediately stood to attention; after all, he had learned how to be an officer and a gentleman over the years. The woman, clad all in black with her hair piled in a neat bun, cocked her head up to take in all of his 1.91 meters.

"Oh, Saal. May I call you Saal? I find titles can be so bothersome. Most men don't have any titles and some men go by just one." Without waiting for his answer, she continued in a conversational tone, "You needn't stand. What with all you have just gone through."  
"Ma'am, I don't understand. Am I on Xandar? What happened with Ronan the Accuser? What happened to Rocket?"  
She motioned for him to sit in an almost motherly fashion and gave him a bright smile. Bright but cold, just like the light.  
"My dear Saal, please call me Missy. You have accomplished all you have set out to do: you died a hero, the world is saved, your friends are fine, and you have reached the Promised Land."

Saal felt the corners of his mouth turn down; he had never given much thought to an afterlife. It was hard enough to just live one life without having to think of what might occur after death. When he was much younger he never thought he would have had any purpose to his life or that he would actually sacrifice himself for the greater good; that is, not until he met him.

Xandar was a galactic hub and as such, most anything could be found, for a price, and despite having the Nova Corps headquarters looming over the city, there was always work for enterprising beings with a flexible view of the law.

One such enterprising man was bent over, trying to catch his breath after running from two of Nova Corpsmen. It was dark in the warehouse and he had no idea what he might have done to draw the attention of the law. He planned this evening's outing down to the timing of the maintenance bots and there was not supposed to be any patrols in this sector for another three hours. He had been able to pocket the small but heavy box, but as he left the holding area, he was spotted by what he could only assume was a random patrol. They called for him to stop, he ran, and when he (obviously) did not, they fired their blasters after his fleeing form. Through whatever luck, they missed him and he spent the better part of the last hour alternating between running pell-mell and sneaking farther and farther away from the area he was spotted in; hopefully they did not get a good look at him in the dim light of the warehouse. He knew that they wouldn't find anything on the electronic security records as he had already scrambled those with a handy piece of illegal technology a friend once gave him.

While not a native of Xandar, he had lived here for a few years and found it to be quite agreeable. His appearance and bearing, even for someone so young, enabled him to move about in society without being marked as someone that most people would not associate with due to his 'occupation'. He worked on cultivating an accent and mannerisms that would gain him acceptance by people who would be scandalized by his real background. He thought he was safe and looked around to plan the best way to get back to the main promenade so he could pass whatever was in this box off to the man who paid him to get it.

He took off the dark jacket he was wearing and turned it inside out and put it back on. The jacket was cleverly constructed to give him two looks: burglar and dandy about town. He now would fit in with the other youth on the promenade who were out there to show off their wealth and status. He sneered and thought that they were all a bunch of a-holes. No matter, once he passed off this box and its contents, he would be 30,000 units richer and would have the time to contemplate his next move.

As he walked towards the meeting point, he took a deep breath. The night air was crisp and as he looked around he was struck by the beauty of the city. The largest building by far, was the Nova Corps headquarters. It lit up the night and seemed designed to reassure the populace that the chaos of the universe could be kept at bay due to the dedication and sacrifice of every member of that august organization. He had never been a teamwork kind of guy, but he supposed he was glad that there were some people around that could take care of the bigger picture.

He turned a corner and ran right into man who was right around his own height, but was older and had eyebrows that would make a native Xandarian proud.

"Excuse me." Said the older man with an accent that could not be placed.  
"No, no," said the younger man, "I apologize for not seeing you."  
"So," the man said looking up at the large building, "Nova Corps… I must be on Xandar, then?"  
How could he not know where he is? The blond man shook his head at that, "Yes, sir, Xandar. If you will excuse me, I need to be on my way."  
As he moved to pass, the older man quickly took hold of his elbow, spinning him around so that their faces were only inches apart and spoke in a low voice.  
"Saal, if you meet your contact to give him that box, you will be killed tonight."

Saal was stunned, not only by the strength of the man's grip, but of the intense look in his eyes and by his words.

"How do you know who I am and what do you know about this box?" Saal was generally good at spotting members of various police organizations, but this man didn't quite scan to be a cop, nor did he seem to be a robber. "Are you from one of the Nova Corps special units?"  
The man shook his head at that and loosened his grip a bit on Saal's arm, "No, but I was a member of U.N.I.T. once…no matter, I came here for coffee, but I realized that I needed to see you too, so I could help you tonight."  
"What do you mean 'help me', I don't even know you." Saal was beginning to wonder about the sanity of this man. His eyes were as intense as a Kree fanatic one moment and then faraway and vacant as a dust junkie the next.  
"Well, you don't know me…yet. But you are a friend of a friend. Jack Harkness once told me about you and that if I ever were to run into you, I should help you out."

At that, the man let go of Saal's arm and instead of running, which, up to three seconds ago, Saal fully intended to do, Saal just stood there, dumbstruck at the mention of his ex-lover's name.


End file.
